Remember me? Hi! Sorry for such a late update, it's just life.

Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for: the last one. Please enjoy and review! :D

Disclaimer: Hetalia = not mine

Gilbert caught the ball for the final time, before rolling over onto his side to look directly at his troubled friend. "And so now he thinks you actually liked his twin brother all along?"

Antonio's face fell. "No? I hope not… I mean I didn't think. Oh no. I really messed up, didn't I? Dios mío. What do I do?" The Spaniard flopped onto the bed his albino friend wasn't occupying and began staring at the ceiling, possibly trying to read the answer in the chipped paint above. "Should I apologize?"

The German raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why would you? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just want him to stop being mad at me!" the brunette whined.

Sighing, Gilbert decided he would be more comfortable sitting up. His new position must have helped his brain process because it allowed him to connect a few crucial dots. "He's Italian right?"

"Sí," Antonio agreed, still sulking.

"Is his name Lovino Vargas, by any chance?"

The Spaniard glanced at his friend in confusion and gave him a thumbs up. "How did you know?"

"His brother hangs out with my brother all the time and Mein Gott does it get annoying, but I think I know how to help you."

Antonio sat up so fast, it nearly gave Gilbert whiplash. "¿¡De verdad?!"

"Maybe, if I can-" the albino didn't even have time to finish before he was tackled into his mattress by a very excited Spaniard. "I can't help you if I'm dead," the German barely managed to say before he lost his supply of oxygen.

"Oh right," the brunette apologized, releasing his friend from the death grip the albino was in. "Sorry…"

"It's cool," Gilbert coughed, adjusting to breathing normally once again. "But for the plan to work, I need a ton of pasta, a few chew toys, and a jackknife."

Later that same week, Feliciano was explaining the hugging situation to an Italian who refused to believe a word he said.

"But it's all true!" the happy-go-lucky brunette protested.

Lovino merely rolled his eyes. "It doesn't fucking matter anymore. I don't give a shit about him, and if he couldn't fucking tell us apart then he's a jackass and I shouldn't be wasting my time with the likes of him!"

"He's your boyfriend!" Feliciano insisted. "You have to forgive him! Or at least try…" The light haired brunette's eyes drifted to the ground as he continued softly. "Nothing's worse than giving up before you try." Tears almost began to form in the corner of the younger Vargas' eyes, before he started to blink them away, going back to his more welcomed cheery persona.

Although Lovino didn't seem like the emotional type, he had a soft spot for his brother. He knew that a few years back, the stupid potato bastard his brother is heads-over-heels for decided against getting involved romantically because the German fucker thought it could only end in tears on Feliciano's part. While the older Vargas brother was all for protecting his brother, he was not okay with other people deciding what was best like that-one of the many reasons he hated that blond pervert.

Taking in a deep sigh, Lovino agreed to give Antonio one last chance.

"È fantastico!" Feliciano exclaimed cheerfully. "You can meet him tonight at 9:00 at the coffee shop!" He hugged his brother tightly for a short amount of time, before being pushed away. The happy Italian merely smiled. "Can I help you pick out your clothes?!"

"No," Lovino asserted, walking towards the kitchen. "I don't care what I wear."

"So, I can choose it?!" the younger adult yelled excitedly. He grabbed his brother's hand and dragged him to Lovino's bedroom. "Let's get you something RED!"

The older Italian cringed, because he knew there was no way out of this.

The Italian made sure to leave home early on his way to the coffee shop because his oh-so-concerned brother had hijacked his Vespa. He spent those thirty minutes grumbling to himself about his brother's stupidity and trying not to think about his date-a fruitless effort.

This was it. The date that he'd been waiting for. So, if he wanted it so badly, why was his stomach doing flips? Why couldn't he think straight?

Several deep breaths later and the only thing to change was Lovino's proximity to the coffee shop. He had spent a few minutes pondering why he was going to meet Antonio there after hours, but gave it a rest after he had to try on the fifth red shirt for Feliciano to see. It was honestly a surprise to the older Italian when he escaped from that closet from Hell to find that he still liked the color red.

By the time Lovino got the coffee shop, he was ready to run back home. There were only two reasons he didn't. Firstly, he made a promise to his brother and breaking a promise is a shitty thing to do. Secondly, he was quite curious about the albino waiting patiently outside the shop's door.

When closer, the Italian took note of the self-proclaimed Prussian's attire-he dressed like a common waiter, white cloth draped over his arm and everything. "Good evening sir," Gilbert began.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Lovino inquired. He hardly liked the bastard's less annoying brother; he was definitely not in the mood to deal with this guy's ego.

"I'll be your server this evening," the albino continued, seemingly unphased. He pushed open the door to the candle-lit coffee shop. "If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will show you to your seat." Taking the lead, Gilbert directed the customer to the only available seat in the shop-apparently all the others were moved out of the area. Gilbert smirked secretly to himself about the bet he just won against Francis, who claimed he couldn't act like a proper waiter for five minutes.

Lovino trailed behind him, mumbling about how he could find his own fucking seat. He spent so much time complaining, he hardly realized who he was sitting across from.

Antonio just smiled as Gilbert pulled out the chair for his date. The Spaniard had spent the last few minutes adjusting the table's silverware so everything could be perfect.

"Hi."

Unsure why he was surprised to see his date, the Italian nervously blushed and then immediately stared down at his plate. "You shouldn't scare people like that bastard," he mumbled.

"Red looks good on you," Antonio complimented, only causing Lovino's blush to increase in intensity. The Spanish man merely chuckled to himself. "Especially on your cheeks."

Is this what it feels like to die of embarrassment? the Italian pondered.

Gilbert-who neither of them had seen leave-returned with two plates of spaghetti carbonara and a bottle of Italian wine. "Enjoy," he stated before once again disappearing into the background.

Antonio poured them both a glass of Cà del Bosco Franciacorta Annamaria Clementi, before refocusing his attention on his date. "Tell me about yourself."

His date however, after regaining his composure, was not impressed. He merely rolled his eyes and took a sip of the wine. "If you think pretending to care about my interests is going to get you into my pants, forget it." In actuality, Lovino wanted to compliment Antonio on the wonderful job he did pairing the drink to meal or question him on why he had even purchased such an expensive drink, but his cynical side got the better of him.

The Spaniard shook his head furiously. "I really want to know more about you. I mean if you wanted to… that's your decision. Not that I would be against it; I would love to and I should stop talking."

Blinking profusely to make sure was not imagining it, the Italian happily took in the sight of his flustered date. It was adorable, not that he would ever say it aloud. "Scuba Diving."

Antonio, who was what seemed like mentally criticizing himself, was torn out of his thoughts. "What?"

"You asked me to tell you about myself. I go scuba diving. I like to watch sea creatures in their natural habitat," Lovino stated calmly, twirling his fork into his pasta.

To that, the Spaniard smiled. He began to tell the Italian about his obsession with turtles and how they were endangered in Spain, but then became overpopulated. Then Lovino talked some, and Antonio cheerily replied. Not once did the conversation dull during the entirety of the meal. By the time they were done eating, Antonio had promised Lovino a ride home, which he fully intended to fulfill.

Outside the shop, the Italian began walking home, already forgetting that he had a faster mode promised to him.

"Lovino, are you coming?" the Spaniard questioned. "I told you, it's no trouble."

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I mean, yeah. I was just checking if you'd make good on your promise," the Italian explained as he got into the passenger seat.

"Of course, if you can't keep your word, nothing you say has value."

The car trip was only five minutes, which Lovino spent directing the Spaniard. It seemed to take less time than normal and when he glanced at the car clock he was shocked that it was nearly midnight. Time seemed to fly by.

That evening, the Italian had cursed significantly less than he did normally, although he didn't notice. Their time together was nice, relaxing in a way. It made Lovino want to do it again, but he also didn't want to risk trusting someone again.

As the car pulled to a stop, the Lovino mumbled a thanks before making his way to the door. Antonio was having none of it though. He quickly, got out of the car-after making sure it was off of course; that's a mistake you only make once.

The Spaniard swiftly took Lovino's hand-the movement was so smooth it seemed like it was part of a dance. Without wasting any time, he pulled the Italian into a kiss. "That's how you say goodnight."

Furiously blushing, the Italian lowered his head in attempt to hide it; however, the idea wasn't sitting well with the Spaniard. He lifted up the man's chin so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. "Didn't I already tell you red looks good on you? Besides, you kinda look like a tomato."

"Bastard," the Italian grumbled happily, at least it sounded that way to the listening Spanish ears.

The End.